


The Contents of Her Purse

by Lollilox



Series: Do Your Research [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Moicy, Right?, brief pharmercy cameo, it's not a gross invasion of privacy if you're in love, moira is crushing hard, moira the science queen at it again with the obsessive behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollilox/pseuds/Lollilox
Summary: After the events of Halloween, Angela's missing clutch ends up in Moira's hands. Naturally, her only course of action is to open it, and learn as much as she can about the blonde, in hopes of a head start on a relationship with her.





	The Contents of Her Purse

**Author's Note:**

> Henlo friends, I could not resist turning this into a small series. I hope you enjoy!

Since the morning after Halloween, the redheaded scientist had much to think about.  
Namely, keeping Brigitte's mouth shut about the situation, by way of a weekly donut bribery.

The events of the night hadn't exactly been organic. According to her information source, Angela was likely to drink herself into a stupor well before the evening even reached its peak. Brigitte had gone on to say that she was happy that someone was taking interest in the blonde doctor's social life, and had been happily chatting, rambling off the point for several minutes before confessing the darker details of Angela Ziegler's life.  
Moira had tolerated the irritating babble until Brigitte had handed over the note, and made herself scarce, before, true to life, escaping the party with a large bosom stuffed with cakes.

That had been right after the party had started.

After several hours of watching from the shadows of the party, Doctor O'Deorain had quite the list of hypothesis about Angela, all little puzzles simply waiting to be solved.  
To say that their meeting was a 'happy accident' would have been a grandiose lie, though it wasn't as if Angela had to know about the miniscule secret now kept hush-hush between Brigitte and Moira with the promise of sweet treats delivered every Friday.  
Well worth it, in Moira's opinion. Halloween had been a gigantic leap forward in solving a few of those pesky riddles that the Swiss medic had instilled in her since the very first moment Moira had set eyes on her. Namely, why did she feel strangely every time the blonde was mentioned? In the end it had turned out to be overwhelming attraction, which to say, wasn't quite surprising at all.

Angela's purse, however, was a whole other casket of answers just waiting to be broken open and examined.

In Angela's blackout, she'd 'misplaced' her purse, though in reality, Moira had only had to kick it under a table to retrieve it the next day. Now, it sat on Moira's pristine white desk, a spotlight lamp craning over it as the redhead sat down in her chair.

Snapping the latex gloves against her skin, Moira took a breath, adjusted her microscopic lens, and peeled the flap of the little black clutch back with her tweezers.  
As if by magic, a puff of shimmering dust exhaled from the purse, causing Moira's brow to shoot up, right before she'd gotten a whiff of Angela's perfume. Not even just her perfume, but the smell of her skin and the chalky particles of her blush.  
The first item tweezed from the innards of the purse had been the source of the delightful scent. A makeup brush, which had been subsequently carefully examined, and bagged.  
Some bland items followed; money, identification cards. Discarded to return to owner via anonymous postage.  
A sleek looking silver cylinder, which had turned out to be a maroon lipstick. A tube of mascara. A couple loose, but meticulously folded, tissues.

The clutch was emptying fairly fast, and Moira gazed at the innards of the purse to frown at it. Her only hope of getting close to the doctor in an organic-yet-inorganic way laid in the depths of the purse, and there was very little left to analyze.  
Going in with the tweezers again, the redheaded doctor found herself holding her breath as she fetched the few final items in the clutch.

A worn photograph. A slip of paper. A small, flat notebook. One singular pen.

The photograph had initially caught Moira's eye as she peered at the people in it. It was clear, by the state of the photograph, that it was taken everywhere. A cherished memory - an upsetting one at that.  
Angela stood in the photograph, beaming her beautiful smile, googly eyes plastered all over the taller, beautiful woman at her side. Sleek black hair laid in an unbroken sheet down to her shoulders, an Eye of Horus tattoo underneath her right eye.  
Envy burned in the back of Moira's throat.  
While the unknown woman in the photograph seemed fairly stoic in the shot, the body language between her and Angela insinuated that they had, at some point, been romantically involved. The woman's hand, while appropriately set on Angela's hip, had been pressing into Angela's skin too tightly, as if to say, _this is mine_ , with her fingers pointing directly at Angela's pelvis. The Swiss doctor's smile and relaxed posture maintained the assumption that it was not one-sided.

She set the photograph down after scanning the face of the unknown woman for a facial recognition search, and proceeded to the next item.

The slip of paper had turned out to be a receipt for an import store, dated several months ago, for a single box of high-quality Swiss chocolates.  
Unsure whether the chocolates were among the doctor's favorites, or merely a gift to have been given to a colleague, friend, or... romantic interest... Moira set the paper aside, using it to cover the face of the unfamiliar woman in the photograph.

Unsurprisingly, the notebook had been the treasure trove that Moira had been searching for. Thoughts on theories, medical procedures and advancements, research and clinical trials were plentiful in the pages, nearly packed to the brim with cursive handwriting as bright and refreshing as Angela was herself.  
The other doctor furiously consumed every word like a page turning novel, and found herself smiling at the very end of the book, lusting for more. She wished she could have marched herself right back to Angela's apartment to dissect several ideas in the blonde's journal, though Moira knew doing so would have been folly. Being in possession of the journal was incriminating, and she would have to do her research to assure Angela that whatever they spoke about was already common knowledge. Or something of the sort.

Satisfied, Moira set down the journal and reassembled the clutch piece by piece, retaining only the things that Angela would miss terribly (the photograph was shoved into the purse unceremoniously) to send to her via anonymous post. Once the clutch clicked closed, Moira sealed it in a plastic bag, vacuumed out the air, and filed it under an ordinary name in the depths of yet another hermetically sealed drawers.

The pen, however, laid still on her desk, staring back at Moira as she picked it up, and slid it into the breast pocket of her lab coat.  
Removing the gloves, Moira disposed of them before running her fingers over the top of the pen, a small smirk coming to her lips as she recalled the words printed on the writing instrument.  
_Property of Dr. Angela Ziegler, M.D._

All in due time.


End file.
